Football Poets

Come on England.

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Oh we’ve heard it all before
Ad infinitum
The speculation, excitement
Hype and hyperbole
It’s this year
It has to be
It’s in the stars
And destiny calls
England, European Champions
Everything is in the right place
It’s all poetically aligned
Even the Bard
Thinks we can do it
It’s England’s year
Football is definitely coming home
Let me tell you now, though
The neighbours did tell us,
As far as they’re concerned
We’re still on a Med beach
Topping up well varnished tans
And we won’t be home until
At least the next World Cup
It’s just a sad, old mantra
The record is stuck, mate
Vinyl suspended in animation
If it was coming home
Then we’d have booked the caterers
And thrown a riotous party
But England have been frozen out
Of Iceland
So time for sober reflection
It’s tournament football
That old chestnut.
Dig out those Union Jack flags
That now resemble grubby
Table cloths from 1966
We beg for perspective
We can still see Venners bit lip
From Euro 1996.
If only the Gazza lunge in front of
Goal had connected
Then Terry Venables may well
Have been jumping up and
Down in effervescent
Trafalgar Square fountains
Face painted with joy
But now we have Gareth Southgate
And if rumours persist
He may well be heading
For that salubrious North London
Suburb, for quite a while
This weekend it’s Euro 2024
Crates of lager and alcohol
Ready to explode in
Prolific beer gardens
Surely not another
False dawn
It’s 58 years now
Since Bobby and his
Beloved colleagues
Restored our belief
In football humanity
World Cup dreams do
Come true
But this weekend
We’ll all be gathered
For another crack
At the coconut shy
This time we will get
That goldfish
We can feel it in our water
Germany here we come
Fate had a quiet word
With us all
And the consensus
Said quite categorically
Yes, it’s our turn to win
The big one
Come on England
You did promise

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